"Because I shouldn't have known," he said in a quick whisper. "I should have gone back. I should have left you here. I shouldn't have known." Stella recoiled. "There is nothing to know," she said sharply, and Thresk pointed at her throat. "Nothing?" Stella Ballantyne raised her hand to cover the blue marks. "I--I fell and hurt myself," she stammered. "It was he--Ballantyne." "No," she cried and she drew herself erect. But Thresk would not accept the denial. "He ill-treats you," he insisted. "He drinks and ill-treats you." Stella shook her head. "You asked questions in Bombay where we are known. You were not told that," she said confidently. There was only one person in Bombay who knew the truth and Jane Repton, she was very sure, would never have betrayed her. "That's true," Thresk conceded. "But why? Because it's only here in camp that he lets himself go. He told us as much to-night. You were here at the table. You heard. He let his secret slip: no one to carry tales, no one to spy. In the towns he sets a guard upon himself. Yes, but he looks forward to the months of camp when there are no next-door neighbours." "No, that's not true," she protested and cast about for explanations. "He--he has had a long day and to-night he was tired--and when you are tired--Oh, as a rule he's different." And to her relief she heard Ballantyne's voice outside the tent. "Thresk! Thresk!" She came forward and held out her hand. "There! Your camel's ready," she said. "You must go! Goodbye," and as he took it the old friendliness transfigured her face. "You are a great man now. I read of you. You always meant to be, didn't you? Hard work?" "Very," said Thresk. "Four o'clock in the morning till midnight;" and she suddenly caught him by the arm. "But it's worth it." She let him go and clasped her hands together. "Oh, you have got everything!" she cried in envy. "No," he answered. But she would not listen. "Everything you asked for," she said and she added hurriedly, "Do you still collect miniatures? No time for that now I suppose." Once more Ballantyne's voice called to them from the camp-fire. "You must go." Thresk looked through the opening of the tent. Ballantyne had turned and was coming back towards them. "I'll write to you from Bombay," he said, and utter disbelief showed in her face and sounded in her laugh. "That letter will never reach me," she said lightly, and she went up to the door of the tent. Thresk had a moment whilst her back was turned and he used it. He took his pipe out of his pocket and placed it silently and quickly on the table. He wanted a word with her when Ballantyne was out of the way and she was not upon her guard to fence him off. The pipe might be his friend and give it him. He went up to Stella at the tent-door and Ballantyne, who was half-way between the camp-fire and the tent, stopped when he caught sight of him.